Mother
Alone in the corner of a dark, wet room
The shine on the floor
Reflecting back buzzing fluorescent lights
Rain comes from the ceiling
There is no sky
I'm crying into my knees
I have no face
I am a grown child screaming in pain
Somewhere off the page, her presence is salient
She sees me left alone and says
Now that's more than enough suffering for one life
And it's time to come home
She takes me by the shoulders and up we rise
Flying fast through clouds and folds in space
I can barely see what is happening
Flashes of blue and gray and white and black
My eyelids forced closed from the sheer force of the wind
Her arms like wings consume me in their embrace
As she saves me from this place
A light breeze through a window's white curtains
Tickles my eyelashes and I wake
The ride is over and here I am
In a simple room in a wooden framed bed
And a single white pillow under my head
Beige walls, plain as bread
Am I dead?
She passes me a bowl of broth and says to drink
I trust her, I don't even think.
It fills me up with warmth and life
And I start to feel that I am not in my mind anymore
The skin prison has been shed and my head is free
I am not me but I am still me
And I can be.
She is outside the room
I hear voices of hers and other mothers
The murmur of their calming voices, so reassuring
Reminds me that I am safe.
I hear her say, "She's awake now. Still very weak.
We have nourished her, and now we wait."
Time passes and I am becoming.
No more crying and no more running
Each day each cell turns over anew
But not like any cell I've ever known
With these inconvenient chemicals all randomly
Interacting by chance encounters
As mistakes accumulate
No, they are little packets of being
The collective of who we are, together
We are both one and one trillion
Each of these is a piece of me is a piece of you
Little bloated sacs of all we are and all the troubles and pain we carry
One by one they empty
I keep waking up
Every day I am reintroduced to another lost part of me
Mother is there when I stand for the first time
I am reborn and learning to walk and talk
She holds my hands and tells me I am going to be just fine
And when I am fully realized
There are more to rescue
There are always more.
They wait in that dark, wet room
With the buzzing fluorescent lights
Reflecting off of the tear flooded floors
Confused and screaming in pain
Waiting for her to come though they don't know her yet
She always comes.
We always come.
Alone in the corner of a dark, wet room
The shine on the floor
Reflecting back buzzing fluorescent lights
Rain comes from the ceiling
There is no sky
I'm crying into my knees
I have no face
I am a grown child screaming in pain
Somewhere off the page, her presence is salient
She sees me left alone and says
Now that's more than enough suffering for one life
And it's time to come home
She takes me by the shoulders and up we rise
Flying fast through clouds and folds in space
I can barely see what is happening
Flashes of blue and gray and white and black
My eyelids forced closed from the sheer force of the wind
Her arms like wings consume me in their embrace
As she saves me from this place
A light breeze through a window's white curtains
Tickles my eyelashes and I wake
The ride is over and here I am
In a simple room in a wooden framed bed
And a single white pillow under my head
Beige walls, plain as bread
Am I dead?
She passes me a bowl of broth and says to drink
I trust her, I don't even think.
It fills me up with warmth and life
And I start to feel that I am not in my mind anymore
The skin prison has been shed and my head is free
I am not me but I am still me
And I can be.
She is outside the room
I hear voices of hers and other mothers
The murmur of their calming voices, so reassuring
Reminds me that I am safe.
I hear her say, "She's awake now. Still very weak.
We have nourished her, and now we wait."
Time passes and I am becoming.
No more crying and no more running
Each day each cell turns over anew
But not like any cell I've ever known
With these inconvenient chemicals all randomly
Interacting by chance encounters
As mistakes accumulate
No, they are little packets of being
The collective of who we are, together
We are both one and one trillion
Each of these is a piece of me is a piece of you
Little bloated sacs of all we are and all the troubles and pain we carry
One by one they empty
I keep waking up
Every day I am reintroduced to another lost part of me
Mother is there when I stand for the first time
I am reborn and learning to walk and talk
She holds my hands and tells me I am going to be just fine
And when I am fully realized
There are more to rescue
There are always more.
They wait in that dark, wet room
With the buzzing fluorescent lights
Reflecting off of the tear flooded floors
Confused and screaming in pain
Waiting for her to come though they don't know her yet
She always comes.
We always come.
